


In Which Castiel is Hit with Sex Pollen, and Dean has to Help

by Teh_Poet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (but not... REALLY...), (but only if you look REALLY hard), Anal Sex, Dry Orgasm, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen, a modicum of angst, dubcon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teh_Poet/pseuds/Teh_Poet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine hunt goes sour when Dean and Castiel get hit with a grab-bag spell by an inexperienced witch. Castiel needs help, Dean provides *because that's what he does*, and Sam probably briefly wishes he was an only child...</p>
<p>Thanks go out to _THE_WIFE for the lovely beta-job!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Castiel is Hit with Sex Pollen, and Dean has to Help

If there was one thing that could be said about Dean Winchester, it was that no matter the circumstance, no matter the cost, he did what was necessary. This didn’t inherently mean that he was quick to jump into the pit, so to speak, without provocation. What it did mean was that if nobody else was able to fix the problem, if there was no spell or magical object or divine intervention from the absent father upstairs, well then Dean Winchester was the self-sacrificer for the job.

It probably started when Daddy Winchester shoved Sammy into his arms at such a tender age and drill sergeanted the poor four-year-old out of the burning house. Taking on responsibility for another life that early on can warp the mind something fierce. Of course if the angels are to be believed then it’d been bred into him, and that night wasn’t the first time he’d stepped up and taken care of someone else first, nor could it ever have been the last…

And it wasn’t. Growing up, Sam was his responsibility, as unfair as that was, and Dean had internalized it to an unhealthy degree. Sure there were the attempts at cooking dinners and the tucking in at night, and even the hugs and empty words of condolence when little Sammy was getting particularly down over Daddy’s disappearances, but the list of selfless acts didn’t end there. John didn’t hold down a job apart from hunting and that sure as hell didn’t pay much. His GI bill was a fairly substantial contribution to their well-being but most of that was drained into a gas budget and hotel fees. Forged credit cards and the errant cash from hustling pool usually floated them some groceries and emergency cash for long enough to win the next load, but John also had a bad habit of disappearing for weeks at a time. Two hungry adolescent boys could eat through a lot of dollars in that many days.

It was Dean’s job to take care of Sammy and he couldn’t do that without money. If that meant going and finding it then that’s what he had to do sometimes. Early on, he may have been too young to go into bars and hustle pool like his old man, but he wasn’t too young for the roving eyes of lonely truckers to appreciate. Dean always did what he had to, it’s what he was good at, so he dealt. Even as he got older and could finally graduate to gambling, though Sam didn’t need him to act quite so Big Brother, he still took the responsibility seriously. It was just hard wired into him. He was the one with the ability to save the world. Nobody else wanted the job, so he was damn well going to give it all he had.

~

“Dean- something appears to be wrong with my vessel…” it was quiet, considering, without even a trace of panic laced in the calm deep tones of the angel’s voice.

Dean looked up, away from the nameless Monster-of-the-Week, a witch this time. She was more like a bitch-in-training, a little girl who had no idea what she was doing and absolutely no right to be messing with this ‘dark forces’ crap. She’d been fighting tooth and nail right up to the end, throwing random powders and liquids into a bowl on the middle of a small altar even as Castiel walked up behind her and use his patented two-finger-smiting on her. She’d been distracted by Dean who’d been acting as decoy standing in front of her and Sam had taken up flanking position in case she’d managed to get a good shot off on either or both of his partners. Fortunately for him Cas was quick, but unfortunately for all of them right before she fell she’d turned toward the angel and a gentle cloud of yellow dust exploded up around them in a muffled _whumph._

“What is this dust, Cas?” Dean was eying his angel, but slapping the particles off of his jacket. Cas was covered in it, and he doubled over coughing. Apparently he’d just breathed it in. Great. 

Sam stood well away from both of them, luckily escaping the unwanted shower. “Are you guys okay?”

Dean gave him a look that spoke a whole paragraph but culminated in the meaning of ‘shut the fuck up, Sammy’. Instead of actually responding to his brother (who meant well, he knew, but Dean was understandably grouchy in that particular moment), he turned to the other member of their hunting party and clapped him on the back trying his best to help dislodge the powder from Cas’s lungs. The angel tensed at the contact, dragging in a ragged breath before letting out a final cough of air and dust.

“Guys, I think we should get out of here…” There was no indication that the danger wasn’t over, but Sam was ever practical and it was generally a poor idea to stick around a crime scene for long. He turned away from brother and angel, making to pick up the duffel bag full of supplies that had been dropped in a corner, and therefore missed the look in Castiel’s eye as he straightened and stared at Dean.

Dean, however, did not miss the look. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, and took half a step back under the scrutiny. “Cas… You said something was wrong-?”

Castiel, for his part, made no move to follow the older Winchester as he stepped back, only stood still and tense. A muscle twitched in his jaw and Dean caught the flex of the angel’s hands as they were pulled into fists.

“Dean. I think my vessel is being affected by this spell.”

“Can’t be, I feel fine.” Despite Dean’s assurance that the powder covering them both had to be benign, he took another step back just in case. “I mean, if it’s hurting you it should hurt me, yeah?”

“This… is a logical assumption.” The angel’s eyes flicked back and forth over the ground, as if accessing some knowledge on the subject or taking internal diagnostics of his human form. His gaze flicked back up to rest on Dean’s face and the muscle in his jaw twitched once more.

Dean stepped forward this time, closing the distance between them, and placed the back of his hand on Castiel’s forehead. “You are pretty warm, dude,” he muttered.

The angel’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact and he swayed on the spot, for just a moment. When the hand retreated his eyes snapped back open and fixed Dean with a hard stare. Colour began to stain his cheeks and his breath had quickened almost imperceptibly.

“Maybe it was some kind of angel-whammy-dust.” Sam returned to the pair still standing in the middle of the room and leaned in to peer at Castiel’s face. “Dude, you _don’t_ look well… What should we do?”

Dean shook his head, at a loss when it came to angel physiology. “We should probably get him out of here, he looks like he’s short circuited…” In fact, Castiel hadn’t moved a muscle since Dean’s hand had left his skin, preferring to simply stare, and it was beginning to get rather creepy thank-you-very-much. “C’mere Sam, gimme a hand with him.”

Dean reached around to place Cas’s arm over his shoulder, a move to walk him out to the car if nothing else, but before the angel’s weight fully settled on Dean’s the angel gasped and wrenched himself away, panic settling into his expression.

“Dude, what the fuck-?” Dean spun and fixed the angel with another stare. Castiel was breathing more heavily now and the flush was spreading from high on his cheeks to take over his face, and his brow was just beginning to sheen with sweat.

“Dean, maybe you shouldn’t…”

Dean shot his brother a look, not refuting the logic but still refusing to stand back when he could maybe do something. He placed a careful step in the direction of the angel, with no ill effect. Castiel just stood there looking like a deer caught in headlights, staring back at Dean as if he were _afraid of him._ “Cas, man, come on. I’m your friend, remember?” One more step forward and the angel vanished. Dean spun on his heel and shared a look with Sam.

“The fuck was that all about?”

“I don’t know, Dean. You feel alright, yeah?”

“I feel fucking peachy.”

“Seriously…”

“I know I know. I feel fine. Confused as fuck, but otherwise I’m A-okay.” Dean scrubbed a hand over his features and heaved a deep sigh. In truth, he was _tired_ but apart from being more concerned than he would readily admit for the angel, he felt normal. “Alright, well we can’t do anything for him if he insists on disappearing on us, so we might as well just shove off…”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam deferred, like the good younger brother. He didn’t see any other option, but he kept an eye trained on Dean anyway as they walked back to the car. If his brother was going to panic on him like Cas did, he wanted to be ready.

-

They found a motel to stay a couple of nights in an hour away and settled in for some time off. Not a lot, just enough to recoup their sore muscles from the fight and pinpoint the next case. Dean had already had his shower, seeing as _he_ was the one covered in the strange yellow dust from the witch, and was stretched out on his chosen bed while Sam started his own. He was still in his towel, but he didn’t feel the rush to put on real clothes just yet. It was just him and Sammy, and besides, his brother liked to indulge in those long hot showers so he would likely be a while. Dean briefly considered having a little “private time” while he had the room to himself. He would have done it in the shower but he was more concerned with cleaning the powder off, and he didn’t want to put up with Sam’s bitching if he ended up using all of the hot water. He couldn’t relax enough for it to seem like a viable idea, though, so he dismissed the notion nearly as soon as it appeared. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was very worried for his angel. He didn’t let it bother him that it was enough to keep him from touching himself, _he didn’t._ “I really hope you’re okay, Cas,” he murmured to the empty room as his eyes slid closed and he began to drift into a light snooze.

A sharp change to the air in the room had Dean’s muscles responding to the potential threat before he was even fully awake again. He was upright, gun in hand and pointing straight at Castiel by the time he recognized the angel standing at the foot of his bed.

“Dammit, Cas, you can’t do that to a guy!”

Castiel, for his part, just stood there looking increasingly awkward, and seemed to be putting as much effort into avoiding Dean’s eyes as trying to look deeper into them than ever before.

“Cas, are you alright?”

“I- I do not believe so, no.”

Dean blinked at the very blunt answer. Honestly he didn’t know what he expected. This was his angel-of-the-lord and ‘Captain Obvious’ was practically his subtitle. Dean rose fully from the bed, only half aware of still being clad only in the towel that was currently riding a little low on his hips. Castiel was doing his cornered animal impression again and stepped back for every step forward of Dean’s.

“Cas- I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Castiel was sweating again, and looking remarkably disheveled for how put together he was. The ever-present trench coat still on, shirt buttons all in place, hair only beginning to muss as it thickened with the nervous moisture- the only indication beyond the angel’s heavy breaths and flushing that he was not okay would be that damn tie that was already in a perpetual state of how-the-fuck-do-I-wear-this-thing. “I tried to take care of it myself,” he murmured low, eyes sweeping over the carpet in another bout of nervous shyness.

“Tried to take care of what exactly? Another witch? The last one have friends?” Dean took advantage of Cas’s looking away to step closer, slow just like with any potentially dangerous creature.

“No, the first one was successful in her endeavours, though I do not think she knew precisely what her spell was going to do to me.”

“I got caught up in her spell too, remember? I only just now got that dust offa me and I still feel just fine…”

Castiel’s eyes flicked up and pinned Dean to the spot. Dean threw his hands up to show he meant no harm, misreading Cas’s panic as something else.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Cas. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“I’m not worried about _you_ hurting _me_ , Dean.”

It was at this that Dean paused and stepped back on his own. “What does that mean?”

“I tried to find somebody to help but they were thoroughly unsatisfactory. In fact, their touch only seemed to hurt. It was not pleasant, Dean.” The angel took his turn at advancing on the elder Winchester and Dean noticed the panic had dissipated. Castiel’s eyes were glazing, and settled on the towel only barely preserving Dean’s modesty.

Dean felt the heat in his own cheeks now, and suddenly was keenly aware of just how _naked_ he was. “Somebody to help you with _what,_ Cas,” he asked again, though he was uncomfortably sure that he knew what the angel was getting at now.

“I sought out a professional,” the angel stated simply, “Two, to be exact. It seems the first did not have the correct equipment, so I hoped another male might serve better…” It seemed that Castiel had given up on trying to avoid looking at Dean, and his gaze couldn’t decide where to land. It jumped between the towel and Dean’s lips and the broad expanse of naked chest.

Dean looked over his shoulder at the door to the bathroom, thankfully still closed. The shower water was still running and Dean couldn’t tell if the increasing tension in the room made him thankful that Sam wasn’t around to witness this conversation or not. When he turned back to Castiel, his next words died on his lips as the angel was suddenly all-up-in-his-business. Now that he was closer, Dean could see just how much whatever-that-spell-was had affected his angel. His heavy breathing already bordered on panting, and the flush was creeping down his neck and under the collar of his white shirt. His limbs were trembling, likely with resistance that was quickly losing the battle and the only thing Dean could think to do was catch his attention, break the angel’s concentrated perusal of his body. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going and he wanted to stop it before it got much further. Dean placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and said his name once. Castiel’s eyes finally made contact with Dean’s and the angel seemed to choke on an inhale.

The room spun around Dean, and he closed his eyes against the pitch and twirl before he realized he’d been magic-ed away to somewhere else, another motel-room it seemed, though not at the same establishment as his shared room with his brother. When the room stopped twisting, Dean found himself on his back on the new bed with a lap full of drugged-out angel. Said angel’s lips were attached to Dean’s throat, nipping and sucking and biting. Whatever restraint had remained in his angel was officially gone and it felt like he was being eaten, fully consumed by the being above him.

“Cas- CAS! Come on, man, we gotta talk about this!”

Castiel seemed to be deaf to protest, too wrapped up in the drive of the spell to listen to Dean’s panicked attempts at reason. His hips, straddled perfectly across Dean’s own, canted and ground slowly against Dean’s and it tore a devastating moan from the angel’s throat. Castiel’s chest rumbled and reverberated with it against Dean’s and Dean had to dig his fingers deep into the angel’s arms, because that sound _did things_ to him.

“Cas, if you rape me I swear to Lucifer I will drench you in holy oil and set you on fire myself you sonuvabitch!”

Castiel did pause, though he remained pressed against Dean, as close as he could possibly get without occupying the same space. Dean had to forgive the small tremors and twitches of his hips because it was obvious that as enthralled by lust as the angel seemed to be, he honestly did seem distressed that he was reduced to such extreme measures.

“Dean- I am sorry,” Castiel was gritting his teeth and he bit out the words as if it hurt to speak, hurt to do anything except consume the figure beneath him, willing or not.

Dean sighed and closed his eyes for just a moment, adjusting to the strange situation and trying to figure out what to do about it. “Lust spell?”

Castiel trembled above him, quakes and shivers growing as time went on and touching didn’t. “Of a sort.” His voice was strained. Once Castiel had given in and sought Dean out and started touching him it seemed that the dam had broken and it may not be long before he fell fully under the sway of the curse or spell again.

“Hookers didn’t work?” Dean was trying to piece all of the known details together, he couldn’t work blind after all. Castiel had said something about ‘seeking a professional’... The angel shook above him, more violently now, and was repeating something in a low moan, lips pressed against Dean’s skin stopping just short of open mouthed kisses. “Cas? Talk to me, angel boy…” Castiel’s hold on control was slipping, gripping to tiny threads, and his hips twitched with more intensity, rocking against the body beneath him, and he murmured against Dean’s throat ‘only you, it can’t be anybody else, only you Dean, please, only you’. The whimpers and rocking were striking at something deep and human within Dean and he gripped tighter at the breaking angel. “Cas, stay with me.”

“Please, Dean. I can’t hold on any longer… I need you…” Angel’s fingers found their way into Dean’s hair and twisted and pulled while Cas’s lips went back to attacking Dean’s throat, though with slightly more reserve than before Dean got him talking.

Dean stiffened, in more ways than one, and he cursed his humanity, his healthy libido, and his inbred propensity for doing the right thing. “Is this thing going to kill you, Cas?”

“-might.” The angel groaned again as the rocking morphed back into grinding and the thin towel provided no protection from the sensations reverberating between the two bodies. Dean heaved a deep breath trying to keep his head on straight as the angel went back to ravishing him without his permission, almost completely under the thrall of the spell again.

“Okay.” It was quiet, resigned, and the angel missed it. Dean pressed against him, trying to lift the heavy body from on top of him, but Castiel growled against him animalistic and dangerous. “Cas, I said ‘okay’. I’ll help you…”

Castiel leaned back as he heard his prey’s words and stared at Dean with wonder and barely disguised appreciation. Dean thought that he could see a small spark of distress, maybe guilt, buried beneath the intense lust, but he had to stop himself from thinking about that. He knew that if the angel were in control of himself he would be absolutely mortified at his behaviour and part of helping him out, Dean felt, was lessening that burden by not lingering on the process, not _talking about it._

“I have to call Sammy, though, Cas. I have to let him know I’m safe.”

Confusion infused Castiel’s expression, it seemed his world had narrowed to Dean and had forgotten other people existed, other places, other _things._

“If Sam gets out of the shower and finds me gone, no note no nothing, then he’s going come looking for me.” Dean’s words were simple, he was talking to a child, someone who could not easily understand.

“We are far away, he will not find us.” Cas’s voice was rough, rougher than usual, and still very matter of fact. His lust had not abated, but it seems with Dean’s consent the urgency was held at bay, if only for a moment.

“That doesn’t matter Cas, he’s still gonna try. But my phone’s in the hotel room.”

Castiel’s attention was drawn again to the towel, the thin cheap-motel-towel that was the only barrier between him and Dean’s glorious naked form. Dean was half hard, responding physically to Castiel’s desperate attentions and the angel’s logic center was quickly short-circuiting.

“Cas!” Dean could see the cloud settling back over the angel’s features and knew this was his last chance to get to Sam before he gave in and gave Castiel what he wanted, what he _needed._ Suddenly he felt the small plastic weight of his phone in his right hand as the leaden weight of the body above settled into his touch again, fingers resuming their tug of Dean’s hair.

Dean quickly dialed his brother’s number as Castiel stretched over him, rocking his hips against him again and lips finding Dean’s throat once more. Sam answered before the first ring even finished, panic making him shout.

“Dean, where are you? Is everything okay?”

Dean bit back a moan as Cas’s nails dragged through his scalp the angel’s lips found their way lower, teasing over his collarbone.

“I’m okay, Sam.” Understatement of the friggen year. “I’m with Cas, I’ll be back before sun-up,” ‘I hope’ he added to himself.

Sam paused a moment, and Dean’s breath hitched as Cas’s lips found a nipple and latched on, worrying it spectacularly without causing too much pain. Sam, it seemed, could hear more than Dean had wanted him too. “It’s the dust, isn’t it?” His Sammy sure was a quick one…

“Yeah, it’s the dust,” Dean sighed. He was having more and more trouble detaching himself from what the angel was doing to his body and he had to cut the phone call short. “Look, I’ll be back before you know it, but I gotta take care of this. I gotta go.” He flipped the phone closed before Cas found the towel’s knot and exposed Dean to the cold air of the motel room. Dean gripped Castiel’s arms again and pushed. The angel seemed to be made of granite, stalwart and unmoving.

“Cas, I said I’m in, alright? But you gotta move, you’re too heavy …”

At Dean’s placating tones, Castiel let himself be moved, but he would not keep his hands to himself. He grabbed at Dean’s sides, fingers digging into the flesh as Dean lay him down underneath him and continued writhing as his body, the curse, begged for more contact.

Dean wasn’t about to do more than he had to, but he was ready to do enough. He figured Cas had already tried taking care of this need himself before lowering himself to find a sex-worker to help him out, so he knew that Cas couldn’t just rub this one out himself. But that didn’t mean Dean couldn’t try. He reached for the fastenings of Castiel’s pants and the angel keened at his intention.

“Hot, it’s so hot Dean,” Cas mumbled. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hair was plastered with sweat to a furrowed brow. He tugged ineffectually at his tie, and Dean lifted him upright, shoving the sleeves of the trench coat down Castiel’s arms. 

Dean was gentle and precise with his movements. It was a distant memory, but his body knew how to go through the motions efficiently. When the coat was gone, he pulled the tie apart and unbuttoned the shirt before shedding it as well. Cas seemed more comfortable, no longer frantic with the need to undress now that he was shirtless, but he was still mindless with the need to touch Dean. He reached for Dean’s face, pulling it to his, and Dean jerked his head out of the angel’s grasp. He ignored the pained whine that tore itself from Castiel’s throat. He was willing to do what was necessary and no more. That was what had gotten him through most of these encounters once-upon-a-time and the whole situation, as pleasing as Cas’s touches were proving to be, brought up too many uncomfortable flashes of memory. He kept telling himself it wasn’t the same, this was for a friend, he was doing it because he wanted to help him, but those were the same excuses he’d used for himself when he was younger and he was only doing it to help his Sammy.

He shrugged off the distracting thoughts and pulled at the buckle holding Castiel’s pants closed and the angel groaned at the promise and gripped tighter to Dean’s form. His hands roamed over Dean’s body, as much of it as he could touch, while Dean reached though the fastenings and fisted Cas’s cock. It was straining and hot and rigid. Dean felt pity for the poor guy in his arms, it had to hurt being that hard with no relief, and set to quickly stroking and squeezing. Castiel fell back against the bed, a surprised shout ripping its way free, and his hands fell to grip at Dean’s wrist. It impeded Dean’s inner mantra of ‘efficiency, efficiency, efficiency’, but he allowed it due to the fact that it seemed to spur the angel on. Cas was now a puddle of ‘yes’ and ‘so good’ and even a memorable ‘god, Dean’, which Dean would have spared a laugh at if he weren’t trying to make this go as smoothly as possible. He was uncomfortable with being so naked and touching Castiel so intimately because he found his body reacting to the sounds and sensation of a writhing body beneath him, never mind that it was his angel, his friend, a _guy._ Sure he’d gotten off with some of the truckers he’d serviced back in the day, it was unavoidable sometimes, but he was officially and thoroughly unattracted to the male form so it had always left him feeling _wrong_ when it happened.

“Come on, Cas, you can do it baby, come for me, let go…” Dean hoped his platitudes would help, and they seemed to be. Castiel’s stomach tensed and his cock twitched. His hips were moving against dean’s strokes, fucking his fist, and Dean wondered if that was the human instinct left in the muscles of Cas’s vessel. He sped up his strokes, squeezed at the tip on the upstroke, urging the angel toward orgasm. Castiel’s breathing was harsher, he was almost hyperventilating, and his head was thrown back, neck bared. He was still humping into Dean’s fist and he whined deep in his chest, shaking all over. His whine turned into a wrecked sob and he grit his teeth against the sensation.

“Not enough. It’s not enough, Dean, not enough,” the words tumbled out over and over, stuck on a loop. Castiel was on the edge, he was frustratingly close, but he was unable to tip over and Dean could see the tears gathering in the corner of the angel’s eyes even as they squeezed shut against the pain.

Dean slowed his hand and a panicked wail echoed in the room, but he ran a hand over Cas’s naked chest, soothing. “It’s alright, Cas. I’m not going anywhere, I’m still here.” He slid off the bed, legs first, and ran his fingers down Castiel’s torso, pulling him with him to the edge of the bed. He pulled at the fastenings on Cas’s pants, opening up more for what he was about to do, and rose to his knees between the angels thighs. He hoped that his mouth would be enough where his hands weren’t and wrapped his fist around the base of Cas’s cock again before blowing on the heated flesh. Cas keened above him, still laying back and completely unable to do anything else besides tremble and beg, but when Dean took the head of his cock in his mouth, hands flew to his hair once more and a ragged shout wrenched from Castiel’s lips. Dean had done this often enough before, he could do it one more time. For Castiel.

“Dean, so good, not enough, please Dean I need… I need…”

Dean sucked and moved his head, fisting what he couldn’t reach with his mouth and made it as wet and slick as he could manage. Castiel’s skin was hot to the touch and only getting hotter. His thighs trembled around Dean and his back arched as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through his skin and settled low at the base of his stomach but still it was not enough.

“Dean, _please_ ,” he wailed. His fingers tightened in Dean’s hair and Dean squeezed and sucked hard, hoping it could be the end of it. Castiel’s shouts shifted abruptly from desperate to surprised and his legs clamped around Dean’s head. He cried out and Dean waited for the pulse of cum on his tongue, ready to swallow Castiel through it, but it never came, even though the angel did. Dean knew an orgasm when he saw one _felt one_ but it was dry.

Castiel’s legs finally fell open, and Dean backed off of the angel’s cock and stood up to run his hands over Cas’s skin to help chase the tremors away and aid in the afterglow. Castiel sighed but he was still tense. His muscles corded and bunched with some intense burden and Dean eyed him closely. The dry orgasm had him worried that there was something more to this curse, and his suspicion was being confirmed as the angel quaked under his fingers. The flush spread down his chest and his skin shown with the light layer of sweat all over his body. It wasn’t right.

“Dean, I don’t- I don’t understand. I thought-“ before Castiel could finish the thought he was seized by a great spasm and he lifted off the bed grimacing in pain. Dean kept his fingers running over Cas’s body, hoping that this pressure would help keep him grounded, and when the spasm retreated the angel was left nearly breathless. “I thought that was what it was supposed to feel like. I still… I still need…” a low moan interrupted his speech and he trembled. Dean left the angel briefly and Castiel shouted out in terror at the loss of contact.

“It’s alright, Cas. I’m right here.” The orgasm seemed to have left Castiel worse than before, and Dean was worried. He flipped open the phone he’d just picked up from the bedside table and then sat on the bed, taking Cas’s head in his lap _naked lap_ and stroked his fingers through his hair, instinctively knowing that even this small contact would be a comfort and a distraction.

“It didn’t work, did it?” It seemed Sam had been expecting his call.

“How did you know?” Dean was frustrated. He didn’t want to make this worse, he wanted to help, but he appeared to have botched things and he didn’t want to make another wrong move. Cas moaned loudly, low in his throat and Dean winced because he knew it could be heard through the phone-line.

Sam was tactful as always, and refused to mention the needy sounds he heard coming from the angel. “I just… you know, I assumed you didn’t… wouldn’t…” Dean could _hear_ the blush as Sam stammered through the awkward conversation.

“Come on, Sam, spit it out! I think he might be dying here! What are you talking about?” Cas’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own and he twisted in Dean’s grip and was now roaming over Dean’s body. Dean allowed it, because it seemed to keep the angel relatively sated and at the very least, distracted.

“I’ve been doing research,” Sam was chastised into action and the stammer was mostly gone, “I think this all started when you shook off your jacket right after you guys were dusted. Cas must have breathed it in, breath _you_ in…” Dean was confused by this, but didn’t have a chance to respond intelligently because the angel was now sitting in his lap again, lips and tongue worrying at the ear that didn’t currently have a phone pressed against it. Dean did a good job of holding back the responding moan, but his breath did stutter and he wrapped an arm around Cas’s middle, gripping for solid footing. He knew he couldn’t push the angel away, it would only hurt him more, so he took a deep breath and tried to ignore the electric shocks coursing through his system as Castiel seemingly found all of Dean’s spots in his frantic perusal of his skin.

“Sam, I need an answer here… Cas isn’t going to last long, he’s either going to die or rape me.”

“You may have to let him…” Sam got quiet.

“I’m not going to let him fucking die, Sam, not after everything he’s done for us!” _for me._

Castiel still had his pants on, though they were open and sagging, but it provided enough protection that it didn’t feel quite as good as it could have when he ground mindlessly into Dean’s uncovered cock. The angel let loose a frustrated keen, and dug his fingernails into Dean’s skin, dragging red lines down his back and then up again over his abs. Dean’s could not hold back his vocal appreciation at this move, and moaned deep in his chest.

_“Dean you may have to let him do what he wants!”_ Sam shouted it all out in a rush to try and end the call before he was thoroughly scarred by the sounds on the other end of the line. As it was, too much longer and he knew he’d have trouble meeting either his brother’s or the angel’s eyes ever again.

Dean shook his head _hard_ , clearing it as best he could as Castiel writhed around him, wriggling down lower _and lower._ “I have to do what now?”

“Something I read here, I mean we don’t really know what was in that spell or even if it’s different with angels,” Sam babbled trying to fill the space with noise that wasn’t sex-sourced, “there’s an herb that induces this lust-haze… It’s not self-servicing, though, it’s more like _he_ needs to get _you_ off.”

Cas was now sprawled on the bed belly down, his sagging pants were now almost off his legs and this left him just as naked as Dean currently was. His hips were rubbing against the comforter, desperately seeking friction even as he focused all of his efforts on crawling back up to make contact with Dean’s skin. He wrapped his hands around Dean’s regrettably very hard cock.

Dean grit his teeth against the sensation, focusing on his call with Sam, “what do I need to know?” He never heard Sam’s answer, though. “Nng-fuck! Castiel stop!” he gasped out and dropped the phone as both hands went to push the angel’s mouth off his cock. Cas made a broken sound and curled in on himself between Dean’s legs.

“Dean, Dean it hurts so much,” he whined, “It hurts but not when I… when I… _please!_ ” his body shuddered, and it didn’t look pleasant.

Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He closed his eyes, completely incapable of leaving his friend _his angel_ on the hook like this. “Okay,” he whispered, “okay…” Dean lifted his hands from Cas’s head and pulled his hands to run over his legs, knowing the angel needed the physical contact. Castiel pulled himself up, mindless, intent on resuming his ministrations on Dean _for Dean_. Dean felt around for the dropped cell phone, hand landing on it just as Castiel’s mouth closed around the head of his cock again.

“Fuu-uuck,” Dean couldn’t stop Castiel, couldn’t stop his body’s response. The angel’s mouth was wet and sloppy and inexperienced but it just felt _good._ It was easier to detach himself from the memories in this position. It’s not like the men he’d serviced in his youth were _all_ tops or anything, it takes all kinds, and a few had wanted to swallow Dean’s cock but it had been nothing like this, nothing so _focused_ on Dean’s pleasure. “Why do you know how do to this,” he groaned, low and needy, impressed. Castiel hummed his pleasure at the compliment, pain and urgency bleeding out of his body.

“Dean!” Through the haze of pleasure centering around the angel’s mouth and fist, Dean realized he was still gripping the phone in his hand and he jammed it against his ear in time to catch his brother in the middle of swearing him to hell and back again, “make me listen to this I will-“

“Sam!”

“Oh thank god”

Dean bit back a response to a soft graze of teeth, but he could not cover up the moan injected into his quickening breath. Sam’s discomfort was audible, and Dean silently praised his brother for being so professional about it all, and figured now was the time to finally hang up and get it over with. “I gotta cum, got it. Thanks, Sammy.”

“Dean, wait!”

“You don’t wanna hear this, man,” another groan, Dean’s stomach was already contracting, happy to comply with the order at hand.

“No, you’re right, but we don’t actually know anything, it’s just a guess! I mean, the flower isn’t even yellow like the dust was… It’s not a love-spell herb, it’s just a… a relationship enhancement, and we don’t know what else was in the mix! I mean-“

Dean knew that it wasn’t going to end well if they continued to not act because they didn’t know what not to do. The way Castiel was responding to Dean’s receptivity, he had a fair guess that they were on the right track. As long as Dean let the angel do whatever he wanted there was no pain no trauma, just the regular intensity behind any really good fuck. “Right, well, thanks for the help Sammy, but I’m _really_ going now before-“ the sentence ended in a hitch of breath and the last thing he heard from the other end of the phone was a very insistent ‘NOPE’ before the line went dead, which was all well and good because Dean had dropped the phone again.

Dean looked down at the angel as he thoroughly and inexpertly slobbered all over his cock and his muscles seized with the light electric current that signaled they may be nearing their end. It was the unexpectedness of the sensations. He didn’t know whether Cas would suck, or slide, or back off and tongue the tip, and not knowing made each act more intense. He realized his eyes had fallen shut, and he forced them open. He had to watch, had to make sure he knew when to stop, when Cas was better, whatever finally did the trick. He noticed the odd angle Castiel held himself in, perched on his knees, leaned forward with a hand between his thighs, neck stretched to deal with Dean’s sizable cock.

“Cas- Cas, what are you doing?” Dean could still see the angel’s cock, hard and leaking as if untouched, so where was his hand? Castiel only moaned in response, but shifted and moved. He released Dean’s cock with an obscene slurp and as he straightened Dean could finally see where his hand had disappeared inside himself. Dean shuddered, holding back his traitorous body’s appreciation for the absolute wanton mess of an angel preparing himself for Dean. He knew it was useless to try and talk to Cas, he just needed to lay back and let him do whatever he needed with his body and pray the angel wouldn’t resent him _resent himself_ when it was all over.

When Castiel pulled his hand free and shifted forward, grabbing Dean’s cock still drenched in spit and dripping its own fluid, Dean’s strength left him and he dropped flat on the bed, surrendering to the angel above him. He let his hands wander to settle on Cas’s hips, who thrummed happily at the reciprocation before using his free hand to gather a final swipe of the slick sticky fluid leaking out of his own cock and rubbing it into his stretched hole. This sight nearly ended the night for Dean, and he started screaming the alphabet backwards in his head, knowing that the second he was done it was all over and he couldn’t know it would be enough for Cas. His eyes were still closed when Castiel lowered himself, impaling himself on Dean’s cock, slowly and torturously, dragging a few choice groaned oaths from Dean’s lips. The angel seemed to be working on some instinct infused in his muscles, either because Castiel’s vessel was a fucking kinky master-of-all-things-sex, or from some guarantee from the spell that some bumbling shy virgin would be able to keep up with their lover. Whatever the source, every move Castiel made was perfect, primed to fill Dean’s entire being with so much carnal pleasure he couldn’t help but lift his hips and bury himself further into the willing body above him.

The angel moved slowly, grinding deep each time he settled fully into Dean’s lap before pulling back up with a swivel of his hips. Twin sets of ragged breaths filled the room around whimpered platitudes and one or both begging for more of the same.

“Cas, oh Cas, why are you so good at this, you shouldn’t be this good…” Dean could no longer separate himself from the act, there were no more memories of lonely travelers with cash to spare, not even a shade of the parade of women he’d bedded with much more enthusiasm. Even these one-night-stands could not claim the honour of _giving_ to Dean as whole-bodily as Castiel was now _giving._ Every naked body Dean had touched had been for him to work over, and this was entirely and thoroughly _different._ ”So good, Cas, so good…”

“It burns, Dean… So hot, so good…” the angel babbled above him, shaking with the effort of holding back and not just ramming himself into Dean’s lap over and over, a hasty end to their frantic meeting. The curse _Castiel_ was not interested in fast and furious, he was focusing on Dean’s pleasure, whether it felt good for him or not, but that was okay because it _so obviously did._ The angel choked out a sobbing shuddering breath and hesitated only briefly but it was enough for Dean to open his eyes and seeing Cas so broken _so wrecked_ shot to his core and he couldn’t hold back any more. He lifted his hips high, grabbing the angel with one arm and bracing with the other, and flipped them over so he was now poised to drive deep into his angel.

Castiel’s eyes flew open, shock _surprise_ staining his features, at the sudden move, but when Dean lifted one of his legs to rest over his hip and angled precisely, thrusting deep, he threw his head back a ragged cry ripping free and filling the air around them. Dean couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, knew _Castiel_ didn’t want him to stop. In this moment Castiel’s pleasure was his pleasure and it wasn’t just some make-believe to convince himself it was an okay thing to do… Everything was right, and they moved together, driving each other higher and Dean could feel it starting. His balls were tightening, rolling, his stomach was tense, uncontrollable. He forced the rhythm of his thrusting to stay steady despite his muscles slowly succumbing to the inevitable end of the coupling. Dean placed a hand under the small of Castiel’s back, angling even deeper, and buried his face into the angel’s throat.

“Cas- Cas I’m cumming soon. I need you to cum with me, okay? Come on, baby, just cum with me…” He begged into the angel’s neck, skin hot in his mouth as he trailed open wet sloppy along the column of flesh and he felt the keen rumbling through Cas’s chest before he heard it. The rush and roar in his ears grew louder, he could feel his heartbeat, the melting molten core of _pleasure_ as his orgasm crested and washed over him. Dean came with a low grunt at the effort it took to hold himself together as he thrust through the spurting of his cock deep within Castiel. It was messy, cum leaking out and squelching rudely as wave after wave spurt after spurt flooded through and out of Dean’s system. The sudden vice of the angel clamping down and crossing both legs behind Dean’s back squeezed a final tremor from Dean’s body and through his pleasure-high he realized the quaking and shaking meant his angel was finally coming undone. Cas’s cock splashed hot and sticky between their bodies, and his shuddered breaths almost sounded like crying. 

Dean held him close, whispering nonsense words into his ear, his hair, his neck, carrying him through the orgasm, before he felt the hard body in his grasp finally relax, tension leaking out of the muscles and limbs. Dean let go of a deep sigh, finally _hopefully_ convinced that maybe it was all over. He shifted enough to loosen Cas’s legs, still locked around him, and to pull out of the angel’s body as gently as he could. He rolled over on his back, pulling Castiel with him and holding him against his chest. They lay there until their breathing slowed and the silence grew too weary.

“Everything alright, Cas?” Dean could feel the thoughts emotions warring within the angel’s mind through the tiny flutters as his muscles tensed then relaxed. Castiel shifted in his grasp, pulling back to look into Dean’s eyes, probably probing for the truth, as opposed to whatever lie Dean may have wanted to offer to placate the angel after their very _blasphemous_ encounter.

“I seem to be… doing okay.”

Dean’s eyes flicked around Castiel’s face, looking for his own lie, making sure the spell really and truly was over. What he saw in those depths made him smile.


End file.
